


Cherub (No longer One-Shot)

by scaredofthedarkuniverse



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff and Humor, If you don't think Crowley is a dad fight me, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Multi, My Catholic school education is screaming at me right now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-05-15 00:53:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19284748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaredofthedarkuniverse/pseuds/scaredofthedarkuniverse
Summary: An unexpected visitor turns up at Aziraphale's bookshop.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Do I have another story that needs updating? Yes. Should I be working on my actual school work? Sure. Do I regret spending a few hours writing this GO one-shot? Absolutely not!

The neat and tidy façade of the A.Z. Fell Booksellers in Soho glittered in the early afternoon sunlight. It was, as usual, closed to the public, after its owner had declared that he was going to get some take-away and settle down for the remainder of the afternoon. His demonic companion, comrade of many wars and reluctant (if only to humor himself) partner in life had declined the offer to collect the food together, stating that it was just around the corner and that there was little that could happen in the twenty minutes between picking up the food and returning. There was little argument from Aziraphale. While he greatly enjoyed Crowley's company (and really, six thousand years was quite enough time to decide that he did, indeed, enjoy his company), walking in the sunlight was something that the angel enjoyed doing at his leisure, and without the ridiculous prompts to hurry up. 

And, so, Crowley basked in the blessed silence of the parchment and leather stacks and sank down into one of the plush armchairs in the back of the shop to contemplate the spines of priceless tomes lining every shelf in the periphery. Really, the Angel needed a new hobby… or a Kindle. Actually, he _had_ a Kindle, which Crowley had given him as a present. It was one of the few times that the demon had heard the other cuss and was then given the silent treatment for several weeks. 

While he was lazily fingering a leather bound first edition of the Iliad, there was a crash towards the front of the store. It was followed immediately by a giggle and a scuffle. Crowley rolled his eyes. To think he had trusted the wonderful fool with his body for a full day when he was this clumsy… He didn't usually giggle, though, nor was it conceivable that he had already returned from getting their food. 

Wearily, he hopped out of the chair and swaggered. It was at this moment that he regretted not asking the angel to refill his supply of Holy water, just in case. Still, he marched towards the source of the noise, only slightly surprised to see a dark-haired, chubby cheeked little woman trying to set the books back up the way she had found them. Her Goodness smacked him in the face as soon as he laid eyes on her. 

"Who the Hell are you?"

Crowley's voice made the creature, in her light denim overalls and white t-shirt (clearly trying too hard to look human), start, consequently bringing down the pyramid of books, once again. "Whoops, butterfingers," she said, giddily, bending down to collect books, once more. 

Crowley groaned, a little hiss accentuating his frustration as he quietly argued with himself as to whether or not he should turn on the demonic charm. Clearly the heavenly army was getting a little too comfortable with his person. "Excuse me, but you haven't exactly answered my question!" 

The angel looked up, blinking her unnaturally bright green eyes in his direction before seemingly remembering herself. "Oh my! You're Crawley!" She shrieked, though there was a wide grin stretched on her face.

"It's _Crowley_ -" The fact that she had launched herself at him, arms twining around his middle in the tightest hug he had ever received, killed the sarcastic comment that had brewed on his tongue. " _What_ are you doing?"

" _I am meeting Crowley, and he is so cool. He used to be a snakey boy, but now he is_ … what rhymes with cool that isn't pool or fool?"

There was a snarl at the back of Crowley's throat. He pried the arms around his middle and took a giant step back. " _Cherubs_. I hate cherubs."

"I'm Zophiel. It's my first time on Earth. Your hair is really pretty. What's your favorite color? What's your favorite song? Do you like carrots?" 

The demon tried to ignore the bubbly, excited energy pouring out of the angel. As a general rule, he did not enjoy talking to the equivalent of a golden retriever on steroids and would rather be bathing in a pool of holy water. _Go- Sa- fuck_ , where was Aziraphale when he needed him? "Since when do they send cherubs to Earth?"

"Well," she started, tossing her hair back, excitedly and bouncing on her heels. "Gabriel gave me a special mission. I was telling him about how much I loved what humans had made and all their songs and all their art and all their inventions and all their languages and all their songs, and _he_ said that maybe I should go down there myself so I could stop talking his ear off. He told me to come get Aziraphale's flaming sword and to _not come back without it_."

"You said _songs_ twice," he snarked. However, there was a tiny twinge that niggled him. Leave it to the ass of an archangel to prey upon the enthusiasm of a cherub. Sure, she was _a lot_ , but that was kind of what cherubs did. They sang, they praised, they sang again. Taking advantage of one because he was in a pissy mood was the equivalent of kicking a kitten. "Does She know you're here?"

"Gabriel said he consulted with Her before sending me off. He's very by the book." She looked so sure of herself when she said that. Poor fool. Crowley tried his best not to shake some sense into her. "Is Aziraphale here?"

"He'll be back in a few minutes," he replied, making some extra space between them and casting anxious glances out the window. 

_Ooomph_.

A book had just crashed into his chest with such force that he assumed he had cracked his sternum. The push had knocked his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and the bright ochre snake eyes stared blankly at Zophiel, a good head shorter and with a wide smile stretching her lips. "Can I read this? Pretty please? _Please, please Crowley, can I read this book? It has little mice on it and I'm sure that I'll get hooked. My mind-_ -"

"For Heaven's sake, Cherub. Do whatever you like, just cool it with the singing."

"Thank you!" Her arms wrapped around his lanky frame, once more, giving him a tight squeeze to show her effervescent gratitude. "Your eyes are so pretty." Before he could even say a sassy retort back, she had skipped away with a smile. 

Crowley rolled his shoulders, trying to rid himself of the sensation of his skin crawling… well, it wasn't quite crawling. He had endured many a hug from Aziraphale when he was feeling affectionate and it always ended with a flutter of his heart and a squelching of his gut that the angel swears is _fondness_. He was experiencing a similar sensation now, but with the added bonus that he had the weirdest compulsion to deck Gabriel in the jaw.

"The lovely people at the Chinese packed extra crispy duck for us, dear. Isn't that-"

" _ZIRA!_ "

Several things happened at once. First, the blonde angel stepped over the treshhold, burdened with several bags of takeaway, which was an ordinary occurrence. Simultaneously, the dark-haired cherub had taken a running tackle at the principality while uttering several shrieks of delight. This resulted in them immediately toppling backwards. Crowley took a half a second to miracle the food to float, mid-air, because he knew there would be Hell to pay if all that Chinese went to waste. 

" _My best buddy Zira has finally come home. He left his friend Crowley bored and alone. He's the best principality, this side of Eden, and-"_

Aziraphale shook the cobwebs out of his head, trying to reconcile the fact that he had just been upright and quite violently met the floor with a crash a second later. If it were not for the singing, he would have been worried he was being kidnapped, again. "Zophiel, what are you doing here, darling?" 

"You remember!" The cherub hauled him up to a sitting position with incredible force, watching with glinting eyes at how he looked between Crowley and herself with a confused and concerned expression. "Crowley let me borrow and book about mice and cookies. I like your coat. Your smile is pretty. This bookshop feels all tingly. Kind of like Crowley." 

The principality looked obscenely amused. "Like Crowley, you say?" 

"Oh, shut up!" The demon spat, doing his best to look prickly and dangerous. "Ridiculous." 

"You two are in love," she said in a conspiratory whisper before squealing and clapping her hands rapidly. 

Aziraphale smiled fondly up at the demon who pointedly ignored him, though the telltale stain of red marred his sharp cheekbones and the tips of his ears. "Darling, what are you doing so far from home? Not that it isn't lovely to see you, but you rarely leave Her side. Even then, it's because the other cherubs have wanted to raise their praises, as well." 

"She's on special mission," Crowley said, teeth clenched tightly. "From _Gabriel_." 

"Is that so?" The angel warily consorted with the demon in the language of pointed looks, before forcing a smile onto his features. "What sort of mission?" 

" _Well_ ," she inhaled deeply to launch into her description, "I was telling him about how much I loved what humans had made and all their songs and all their art and all their inventions and all their languages and all their songs, and _he_ said that maybe I should go down there myself so I could stop talking his ear off. He told me to come get your flaming sword and to _not come back without it_." When she finished, she looked exceptionally pleased with herself. "Oh, and he told me not to tell the other cherubs, so they wouldn't get j-e-a-l-o-u-s," she whispered. 

"Sweetheart, I'm afraid the sword has been locked away for safekeeping. Y-you can't take it back to Heaven," Aziraphale explained, flashing a warm smile in her direction. 

"That's OK. I'll explain the whole thing and it will be fine." A giggle followed the statement. "Ooh, I know an Earth song for this… er… _don't worry about a thing, 'cause every little thing is gonna be al-"_

__"Must you? Really?" Crowley asked, grabbing the hovering Chinese takeaway and setting it down on the table at the back of the store._ _

__"It's her job, Crowley. And no one was complaining when you spent most of the first millenium hissing and dragging your esses, so behave." The angel snapped back. "Zophiel, maybe you shouldn't tell Gabriel about anything and just go straight home whenever you feel like it."_ _

__"I would, but he locked my transport, so I kind of-"_ _

__"He _WHAT_?" Crowley seethed, looking as if he were going to throw several valuables out of the window in a rage. "How did you let that happen? Why did you do that?!"�  
Zophiel had started, ducking back into Aziraphale at the sheer volume of the demon. "Crowley, you're scaring her. Settle down."_ _

__"That bastard tricked her into leaving Heaven for-"_ _

__"He's using spicy words," the cherub whispered, her voice half-way between a gasp and a giggle. "And he's doing the tingly thing again."_ _

__A fortune cookie flew in their direction, and Aziraphale caught it easily, midair with a look of disapproval. "Yes, he's quite the violent enigma, but I assure you it's all window dressing, darling."_ _

__"Everything is fine, friends. In fact, I'll call Gabe right now!"_ _

__"NO!" Both Crowley and Aziraphale yelled, just as the cherub flicked her wrists, opening a brilliant white portal that reflected the faces of hundreds of angels._ _

__The face of the Metatron illuminated the stream. "Hi, Mets. You look so pretty today! Can I get Gabe, please?" With a rare smile, the Metatron nodded and shifted the stream until it landed on the lavender-eyed figure of the archangel. Aziraphale and Crowley made haste in getting out of view as soon as was physically possible, leaving the smaller angel sitting, comfortably cross-legged on the floor._ _

__"Ugh, this one again," he muttered before slipping on a fake grin. "Zophiel, how are you, my little Special Ops Cherub?"_ _

__"Hi, Gabe! You look so pretty today. I'm doing great and Earth is so beautiful. And Aziraphale's bookshop is massive and tingly and amazing. I've sang such pretty songs and-"_ _

__" _ZOPHIEL_ , have you or have you not gotten the sword back?" He cut in, his grin looking more like a grimace. _ _

__The cherub, not allowing his abrasive tone to slow her down, bit her lip in an anxious fidget. "Well, I've been having a chat with Zira, and, you see, the flaming sword has been hidden. That way it can't, you know, summon War and start the Apocalypse, again. So, I thought I'd check in on it and then head home in time for evening praises."_ _

__"No, no, no. That was not our deal. You need to get the sword and _then_ you can come home!" Crowley tapped a quick rhythm on the wooden surface of the table, cracking his neck every now and then, much to Aziraphale's chagrin. His patience was wearing thinner by the second. _ _

__There was finally an emotion other than effusive happiness roiling through her. Any expert on angels would know that the bubbly feeling they felt in their blood lasted a rate that was inversely proportional to all the messed up happenings in the world, and hers was definitely on the decline. "But, Gabriel… I haven't missed evening praises in six thousand years. If I'm not there, the choir won't sound perfect."_ _

__"You want to skip out because you want to sing your little songs," he retorted, in ridicule. "Oh, Zophiel wants to come back home because she needs her lullaby." By this point, Aziraphale had the back of Crowley's leather jacket bunched in his fist to keep the slithery man from bursting into the conversation to give Gabriel what-for. The angel couldn't remember the last time he had seen the other so indignant. Worried sarcasm was more his style, after all._ _

__"I- I just meant-"_ _

__"It's better if you stay there. Give the rest of us a little break from your tone-deaf excuses for praise," Gabriel pressed on. "No one even _likes_ your singing."_ _

__Zophiel's lingering smile faded into nothingness and there seemed to be a telltale quake of her bottom lip. "God likes my singing."_ _

__"Well, I heard someone say that She can't _stand_ the sound of you, any more than I can. You _stay_ there until you get the sword." There was the cackle of voices behind Gabriel and in the distance the three in the bookshop could see Uriel, Michael and Sandalphon laughing at the cherub's expense. _ _

__"Crowley, don't-"_ _

__The demon slid into view, nudging the cherub aside with one spindly leg and baring his teeth at the brilliant light stream. "Oi, listen here, you great winged twat. That flaming sword is staying right where it fucking is and if you _ever_ try to speak to the Cherub again, I will obliterate you in Hellfire and put you out with Holy water. God knows there isn't a heavenly bone in your damn body." With a swipe of his hand, a giant flame engulfed the screen and severed the connection. "Fucking angelic assholes."_ _

__When he turned and glanced down, he expected the cherub to have already brushed off the cheap shots and moved on to another book. Instead, he found the cherub, all four wings out in display, trying to shield her form. Though the angel wore none of the flashy decorations that others wore (she was very similar to Aziraphale in that regard), the tears that streamed down her face were brilliant, molten silver. Of course, there was also the issue of the three extra faces on her person (the ox looked particularly distraught) to take into account._ _

__"How drunk was She when she made you lot?" Crowley asked, narrowing his eyes and scrunching his nose at the cherub. The lion face mewled before a fresh wave of tears arose._ _

__He cast Aziraphale a pleading look, but the principality was more confused as to what had just happened to intervene._ _

__"Oh, _Jiminy Cricket_ , don't… don't do _that_." He bent down to get to eye level with her. "Stop… all of that." He gestured her whole form; he might as well have expected a _there there_ to solve all of her problems, but she seemed just as upset. Another look to Aziraphale went unanswered and was tempted to yell about what use it was to have an angel around if he wasn't going to help him in these situations. Feelings were just… not his department. It was a second before a look of determination filled him. "None of that. Come on." He wiped away at her tears with his fingers, ignoring the slight burn that blossomed at the contact. Angel tears were, after all, the purest form of Holy water._ _

__"She doesn't like my singing," Zophiel said in a small voice. There was much sniffling coming from the ox. The eagle, however, looked relatively nonplussed about the whole situation._ _

__"That wasn't true. He was… not being truthful," Crowley said, patiently. He felt like he should leave the fact that angels could lie for another time. "Hide, well, _all of that_ , and get up. We're going out."_ _

__"I don't feel like it, Crowley," she whispered._ _

__"Wasn't a question, Cherub. Come on." He sad, decisively, pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. "You, too, Angel." With a tug, he had Zophiel on her feet and she hid, albeit reluctantly, her otherworldly attributes._ _

__Aziraphale sighed, casting sorrowful glances at the untouched takeaway. "Where are we going?"_ _

__"Karaoke."_ _

__~*~  
They returned to the bookshop in the wee hours of the morning, giggling and skipping down the road towards the giant glass doors of the corner property. Zophiel was giggling excitedly, giving the demon and angel couple a minute-by-minute description of how she felt when she got up on stage to lay down her rendition of "Killer Queen" (chosen, of course, by Crowley), despite the fact that they had both been present for its duration. Sure, the patrons had fallen asleep with her dulcet tones, a curious side effect of hearing a cherub's song, but it had been an amazing cover (for those who bore witness). Aziraphale and Crowley walked down the street, hand in hand with Zophiel riding piggyback on Crowley, arms clinging affectionately to his neck. _ _

__The trio stopped just short of the bookstore, taking in the shadowy figure muttering to himself and pacing back and forth on the top step. A fledgling demon, still wet behind the ears, if Crowley had ever seen one. If he was being honest, the youngling looked like a discount version of him, in his dark trousers, torn band t-shirt and leather jacket. His skin was olive and decorative stripes of red and black were smudged on his cheeks. He perked up considerably when he saw the group approach and the former snake hissed at the young demon._ _

__"For fuck's sake, who are you?" He ignored Zophiel's muttering of _spicy words_ in his ear._ _

__The demon's mouth flapped open a few times before he found his words. "I-I'm Nix and I'm here for the sword, Master Crowley… _Traitor Crowley_ ," he corrected making a fuss of trying to look tough. _ _

__"Yeah, well, get in line! It'll be an eternity or two." Crowley hissed back, revealing his snake face, making the fledgling cower against the wall._ _

__"You're scaring him, Crow-crow," the cherub protested, clambering down his back and skipping towards the shop door, dragging the new demon behind her. "Hi, I'm Zophiel. That's Crowley and Aziraphale."_ _

__"Zoph, stranger danger. C'mon!"_ _

__Zophiel turned around, a wide grin on her face. "We all know each other's names, silly." She turned her bright eyes on the demon, who looked a little unsure now that he was on Earth and surrounded by the present company. "You're so pretty. I like your face paint. Do you want a cookie? Mice like them, too."_ _

__Nix's eyes doubled in size as he stared, somewhat confused, but if the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth was any indication, not entirely opposed to the praise. "Um… sure?"_ _

__"Cool! Come on!" It was barely a second before she pushed open the front door of the shop and dragged Nix behind her through the narrow stacks of old books._ _

__Behind them, Aziraphale smiled, glancing sideways at the irate look on Crowley's face. "It definitely won't take _them_ six thousand years to get a clue." His pale blue eyes stared onto the demon with a warm expression that soon turned into a melting puddle. "Oh, I feel… flashes of _love_ -"_ _

__Crowley looked mildly disgusted, wrinkling his nose at the principality. "I don't care what they're getting up to, Ang-"_ _

__"They're from _you_ ," the angel teased, watching in delight as the demon took off his sunglasses to give him the full force of his scowl and marched into the bookshop. "Shall I miracle more space in the upstairs? Or are we going halfsies on the children?" He called after the demon, laughing all the while._ _


	2. Cue that smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know- I KNOW! I said it was a One-Shot, but... they kept rolling around my head and I just... I'M WEAK, OK!?

Crowley's ears prickled. He had been casually draped across the throne in the center of his apartment when they did. It was the subtlest of disturbances, but to him, it was obvious. His legs made it onto the floor without a sound, and he half-sauntered, half-floated towards the source of the disturbance and circled his arms around the small, blindingly bright bundle of the cherub attempting to sneak out the front door. 

"Anthony Janthony, _let me go_!" Zophiel cried, kicking her legs to try to pry herself free, but eventually deciding that going limp like a cross toddler was the best course of action. 

He scoffed. "Don't do that. I _invented_ that and you are not running off to Aziraphale's to see that… that _rabble-rouser_."

"But, _AJ_ -" Her eyes were wider than the saucers from Aziraphale's china set, and just as brilliantly hued. Although Crowley found it far too easy to fall for her doe eyes and quivering lip ( _Let me pet the kitty, AJ. Can I please have some extra chocolate? Can we keep the cute alligator?_ ), when it came to her safety, he was surprisingly strict. Even Aziraphale had noted and made a suitable comment. Crowly promptly shoved him against the wall, growling that it wasn't true. The Angel said he'd keep repeating it if _that_ was going to be the response, and promptly kissed him. 

"I already told you _no_ , Zophiel. I will not tell you again." His eyes were sans glasses, as they usually were whilst in the apartment, which only added to the effect of their annoyed narrowing. It also helped that staring at the cherub with his snake-like eyes did wonders with capturing their attention. She enjoyed how the pupils constricted into harsh lines and dilated into dark pools depending on the mood. It was a cheap trick, but he was a demon and cheap tricks were highly encouraged. Crowley dropped the angel on the sleek leather sofa (a new acquisition, given that he now had _houseguests_ to consider) and stood in front of her with his arms crossed. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

There was a pout on the cherub's face, but her gaze was placed firmly on the darkly carpeted floor in contrition. "Nix has never seen stars. I was going to take him to the planetarium." Crowley growled, shaking his head in disbelief. "We were going to be careful!" She defended, ardently. 

"Zoph, until he tells us the _full scope_ of his mission on Earth, Nix is _off-limits_."

"But-"

"But _nothing_ , young lady," he seethed, and Zophiel's shoulders slumped further. "And let me remind you that sneaking off is still a lie of omission."

"I know," she admitted, lip quivering. "I'm sorry, Crow-crow." He could tell that there were silver bullets gathering at the corner of her eyes. 

With a sigh, Crowley kneeled at her feet, brushing a wayward tear from her cheek, deciding the sting they produced was his manner of atoning for his explosive response. After all, it was physically impossible for her to do anything with any ill intention. "I promise I will take you to visit him later, but just for a little while. OK?" She nodded, her incandescent smile returning to her face. "Go… water the plants or something," he grumbled, waving her off, and ignoring the faint tightening of his stomach when she clung to him in a brief hug. 

Following the most recent invasion of fledgling immortals on Earth, Aziraphale and Crowley had, indeed, _gone halfsies on the children_. Aziraphale had taken charge of Nix because, despite the fact he was a demon and they didn't approve, he truly loved books and had already ravaged through half of the bookstore in the short stint he had been there. 

Crowley had been stuck with Zophiel. Actually, Crowley had _claimed_ Zophiel and when prompted for a reason why by Aziraphale, he had bared his demon face and growled. Clearly emotions were not really part of Crowley's vocabulary and/or conversational set. Aziraphale had given him a knowing smile, those accursed twinkling blue eyes glinting in the firelight before he had said _whatever you like, dear_ and set to miracle-ing more space in his apartment. 

The boy, however, that _Nix_ had been awfully vague. He had said that he was there for the flaming sword, made eyes at the cherub, but had otherwise been mum about the rest of his instructions. He claimed there had been no other instructions; Crowley did not think Hell could be that stupid. Something had to be going on, right!?

" _When the skies are grey still I'm walking through fields of flowers. Rain may glisten, but still I listen for hours and hours. I'm just a kid again doing what I did again- singing this song when the red, red robin comes bob, bob, bobbing along._ *" 

Crowley leaned against the doorway, watching the Cherub sing to the newly acquired flowering plant, coaxing the petals of the buds to peek open in brilliant yellow hues. His plants had never looked better, even though their anxiety was nearly non-existent. Zophiel had caught him yelling at them and she cried so much that he had no choice than to promise on his Bentley's life not to do it again. She now sang to them, daily, and the greenery was so appreciative that they had maximized their growth by 33 percent. 

"I'm going soft," he muttered just as Zophiel stopped singing and was clapping at the bright yellow rose on the tiny plant. 

"Crowley, look! She bloomed," she squeaked, her mouth so wide it looked like she slept with a coat hanger in it. "You should take her to Zira!"

"Does Aziraphael like flowers?"

The cherub pulled a face. "Everyone likes flowers, silly. And he likes yellow."

"I suppose, so. Grab it, let's go." He gestures over his shoulder with his head, and Zophiel excitedly grabbed the potted plant and trotted after the demon into his Bentley. 

Arriving at the bookshop was a whirlwind. Nix was convincing the only customer in the store that he didn't want to actually buy the old first edition book they were eyeing. Crowley had to admit, the demon was far better than Aziraphale at derailing possible sales. He wasn't even mean about it. He just, sort of, vaguely suggested that they were better off without it. With a polite nod, Nix ushered them off before glancing over his shoulder. His whole countenance lit up like a bloody Christmas tree at the cherub's arrival. 

_Gosh,_ Crowley thought, _I hope I don't ever look that stupidly enamored._

"Hi, Nix! I'm happy to see you. I like your haircut. You look pretty." Zophiel handed off the tea rose to Crowley, her eyes very clearly only interested in Nix. 

"No, you're pretty. You're the prettiest angel I know," he replied, skimming his fingers down the side of her face, leaving both Crowley and a recently arrived Aziraphale to stare at their quiet adoration with weirded out expressions. They had a mental conversation of _we don't look like that, do we?_ before simultaneously rolling their eyes.

"Maybe they _do_ need to get out more," the principality supplied, skirting around them to offer Crowley a warm smile. "Hello, dear."

"Hello, Angel," the demon muttered back, dipping his head briefly to press a kiss against the other's mouth. "I… er… _Zoph_ thought you'd like this," he said, gesturing awkwardly at the rose, grateful that the sunglasses occluded part of his face which was near dying with embarrassment. 

Aziraphale gasped. "Oh, I love yellow roses!" He gushed, taking the plant with a tender look and setting it on the windowsill where it would get a good amount of sun. "Thank you, dear, it's wonderful."

"You're welcome, I suppose." 

The two turned to the younger pair, sitting on the floor, shoulder to shoulder as they looked through a picture book of the Universe with rapt interest, stealing secret glances at each other every other page and turning back to the tome with blushing faces. Each had a hand laying haphazardly on the book's crease and every now and again their pinky fingers would brush each other and they'd share yet another look. 

"We can't keep them apart, forever, Crowley. We both know the boy knows nothing other than what's told us."

The demon frowned. "I can bloody well try. Zophiel-"

"Is not a child. She's an innocent Cherub, I will give you that, but… look at that smile," Aziraphale interrupted, pointing at the pair who had all but given up on the idea of reading the book in favor of speaking to each other in soft, soothing tones. "Don't tell me you don't recognize that smile."

Crowley rolled his eyes so hard he thought he had changed the axial tilt of the sphere. "No, I don't _recognize_ that smile, whatever that means."

The principality smirked. " _Didn't you have a flaming sword?_ I gave it away. _You, what?_ I gave it away. Cue, _that smile_." He acted out, slipping on long essess on Crowley's lines, as it was early days and he still had the tendency to do it. "Oh, the books! I forgot all the books. They'll all be blown to- _Little demonic miracle of my own._ Cue, that smile. _You can always miracle it away_. But, I'll always know-"

"I bloody get the point, Angel," he growled, scrunching his nose. "But, they're-" He turned to point at the couple, only to find that they had moved positions. Zophiel was half on Nix's lap with her head tucked under his chin. Nix had his arms twined around her waist to keep her close. More importantly, the two were dead asleep after days of nervous energy and prolonged insomnia. "-they're asleep."

"I was expecting it. I gave you a hug in seventeen ninety six and you slept nearly a century, afterwards," the angel offered, a little crease forming between his eyebrows in concern. "Maybe we should move them upstairs, to be safe," Aziraphale suggested, not giving the demon time to protest before he closed his eyes and willed them to be tucked into bed in the apartment above.

It hadn't been a century, but they _had_ slept for about a week before either of them gave signs of life. Leaving the immortal planes for Earth always took it out of them, and both Crowley and Aziraphale were surprised either had gone that long without passing out. Zophiel and Nix trudged sleepily to the small table where Aziraphale had laid out a spread and Crowley was lazily reading a newspaper over his sunglasses while simultaneously watching their interactions out of the corner of his eye. Zophiel had squealed, sang a song about mornings and poured them both a cup of tea. In her excitement, she had sprang forward, intent on hugging the young demon who had started in shock and leaned back, frightened. 

"Hey. Don't go too fast for him, now, Zoph," Crowley said, casually, as he turned the page, not before giving the cherub a quasi-stern look. Zophiel nodded, as if it were the most important assignment she had ever been given, and quietly asked for permission to give Nix a hug. The would-be serpent ignored Aziraphale's knowing smile, but was not quite able to ignore the gentle manner the principality stroked his hair, in passing. Cue, _that smile_. 

There was a knock. Well, three knocks, if you wanted to be specific, and the four occupants in the room stared at each other before moving their eyes towards the door. The bookshop, the only point of access to the upstairs area, was shut down and locked. No human was picking the lock to a bookstore full of priceless first editions just to knock at the door of the owner's flat. 

Aziraphale chuckled, anxiously, doing his best to seem cool and casual. "It's probably just the building settl-" _Knock. Knock. Knock._ The casual smile fell away and was replaced with concern. "Crowley, something feels wrong."

"I know. Come away from the door," the demon hissed low, already on his feet when the door burst open and bounced against the wall.

Gabriel strode in, all smile and charisma, with an angry Beelzebub in tow. "It's not polite to keep guests waiting, Aziraphale."

"Stranger danger. _Stranger danger!_ " Zophiel cried, kicking away from her chair and moving backwards towards the wall. 

Nix had followed, though his generally open and welcoming face had fallen into a hard mask. "Stay behind, Zoph." With a passing smile, he had tucked the cherub safely behind him and was gesturing Aziraphale to back up. 

"Tell me," Gabriel began. "Why is it that whenever shit is going wrong, it's _always_ you two?"

"Spicy words," the cherub whimpered, automatically. 

Crowley cast her a tender smile before turning back to the "admins" with a hiss. "You two are out of bounds. Get the Heaven _and_ Hell out of our home. _Now_."

"Or what?"

"When I said I'd set you on Hellfire and put you out with Holy water, I wasn't fucking kidding, Archangel," Crowley seethed. "By the way, had I been there when you told Aziraphale to _lose the gut_ I would've torn your fucking eyes out."

"Shut up, Traitor," Beelzebub yawned, rolling her eyes. "We'll get out of your precious hovel as soon as you hand over the defectors." Her grime-encrusted fingernails pointed at Nix and Zophiel at the far end of the room. 

"Defectors?" Aziraphale gasped. "They were sent on an impossible mission and-"

"And now they'll be made an example for the armies of Heaven and Hell so that they'll trigger the war, themselves," Gabriel finished, smiling sincerely for the first time in his six thousand year existence. "It was a brilliant plan, wasn't it? Send the two most gullible soldiers either side had to offer and wait."

"But," Zophiel's dark hair peeked out from behind Nix, who looked even more steely now that the truth had been revealed. "But, you said it was a Top Secret Special Ops mission," she said in a soft voice. 

Gabriel snorted, bursting in raucous laughter at the suggestion. "Why would I give a choir girl a mercenary's job?"

"So, you- you lied?"

Crowley, Aziraphale and Nix wanted nothing more than to shower her in praise and tell her it was going to be OK, but the situation did not allow for such a display of affection and so the three stood, listening to the sound of her heart shattering. 

"You said she was soft. I didn't know she was also a moron," Beelzebub jested, joining into Gabriel's laughter. 

Zophiel had brushed past Nix, silver tears streaming down her face. "You lied. I trusted you and you-you lied. You've been lying to me all this time. I _defended_ you." Four wings had manifested themselves, as well as the three additional faces, all angrily grunting. 

Aziraphale's face lit in concern. "Darling, do calm down. There's no need to get worked up about it. Truly."

"He _lied_ , Zira. To my face. To Her face. To all of us." The cherub's voice was no longer the light, airy lilt it usually was, but brash and uncomfortable sounding. It sounded like the trumpets of death, though it made much less sound. The feathers on her wings became littered with hundreds upon hundreds of eyes, all staring in a rather sinister way, all locked on Gabriel and Beelzebub, who had both decided that it was high time to feel nervous. Her eyes flickered as the ox, lion, eagle and humanoid faces all switched back in forth, putting the fear of God and everything in the universe into the two representatives. 

"What is she doing?" Beelzebub buzzed. 

"I'm not sure," Gabriel answered, stepping backwards before great golden flames stopped his path. The flames sparkled and gleamed in the low light like plasmic metal, licking at the Universe- righteous flame that was sure to destroy any entity (demon or angel) that dared touch it without the cherub's express protection. 

"You mean to tell me that you think that some of the highest-ranking angels are there _just_ because they sing pretty praises," Aziraphale asked, though his tone was more of fact, looking down his nose at the two cowering into a corner. "I suggest you two duck and cover," he added, looking over his shoulder at Crowley and Nix, before following his own advice.

The cherub glowed with otherwordly intensity meant to burn the retinas of heretics and non-believers. Cherubs were, after all, invented when God was feeling a little iffy about the human race and their know-it-all attitudes. They've now been reduced to pictures of fat babies with wings in modern folklore, but that didn't mean that Zophiel was not every bit the lean, mean killing machine she was six thousand years ago. 

" _You will leave. You will not return. You will not look for us. You will fail._ " Every single word out of the glowing mass was like the sound of nails on a chalkboard, passed through a whiny blender full of screws and then remixed by a banshee. 

It did not take an encore for Gabriel and Beelzebub to run away in panic back to their respective hovels. Crowley peeked from under the table. Though the threat was gone, Zophiel still remained in her most Terrifying Form, crying unconsolably and unable to control the sounds she was producing. 

The demon glanced at Aziraphale, a pleading expression on his face. "If she keeps crying, she might kill a mortal, Angel."

"She wouldn't mean to do it," he yelled back, hands still cupping over the ears of his earthly form. 

"That wouldn't matter, now would it? If she's upset now, how'd you think she'll feel if she accidentally kills someone?" Crowley hissed back. 

All of a sudden, the noise was gone. Everything was quiet, apart for the occasional, dainty sniffling happening in the center of the room. Angel and demon turned away from their argument only to find Nix with the cherub tucked under his chin while she held onto him like a lifeline. The fledgling attempted to pretend that the tears soaking through his shirt were not sizzling in the excruciating pain he had ever felt. 

"Everything's fine, Zo. You're OK," Nix whispered, rubbing circles into her back. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I'm really, really sorry."

Aziraphale sighed lovingly, his azure eyes flickering at Crowley who was staring, rather dumbstruck at the pair. Crowley's face hardened after a moment, long, spindly body straightening up to its full, swaggeringly demonic height. "Hey, boy," he called and Nix raised his eyes at the other demon. "Why don't you take her to the planetarium? See if that cheers her up?" He suggested, though there was the slightest hesitation in his tone. It was disturbingly hard to relinquish control (and, not to mention, protection) of the cherub, but… he had to let her make her own choices, he supposed. 

The cherub nodded excitedly, wiping her cheeks roughly and leaving behind red smudges on her skin. Nix said something about changing his shirt while Zophiel bounced on her heels, waiting patiently by the door. The young demon returned a moment later, a tentative smile (yes, _that_ smile) pulling at his lips in almost reluctant excitement, a testament that some demons were, at their core, rather good and were simply afraid to live their best life, as it were.

"Do come home before dinner. We can all have tea at the Ritz," Aziraphale suggested, practically glowing in happiness, shooing the young ones away. 

Crowley sighed, taking off his sunglasses and tossing them on the table with a clatter before snatching the newspaper from where it lay abandoned and snapping it open. He sunk into his seat to continue reading, leaning the chair onto its back legs with impeccable ease. He did, however, find himself flailing in the air as a force nearly tackled him to the ground in a tight hug. 

"I love you, Crow-crow," Zophiel whispered against his chest. "We'll be home for dinner."

"Please do," he replied, trying to maintain his aloof, careless tone and failing quite spectacularly at it. There was another squeeze at his middle. "Love you, too, Zoph," he whispered into her hair. "Go. Aziraphale and I need some peace."

Aziraphale rounded the table, taking a seat beside the demon and sipping delicately from a teacup, smiling secretively behind the porcelain vessel. 

"Spit it out, Angel," Crowley growled, not deigning to look at his companion. 

"It's adorable that you fear for her safety when she can destroy half the world with a scream," the principality commented. "It's rather touching."

"Well, if you hope for me to ever touch you any time soon, you will drop the subject, Angel." He turned the page on his paper. "Besides, it's _him_ I'm worried about. Zophiel nearly blew out London because an acquaintance lied to her, God save the fool if he ever steps out of line," he drawled, a lazy smile draping onto his lips. 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, thinking _him_ the fool. 

"Hey, Angel?"

He sipped his tea, miracle-ing a biscuit to dunk into it. "Yes, my dear?"

"I like your eyes. Your smile is adorable. You're really pretty." Cue _that_ smile. 

A chuckle escaped the Angel. "Yes, yes. I love you, too, dear."

_______________  
* Song is Red, Red Robin


	3. Stuffy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm weak and they just beg me to write. Nix is a gentle soul. Crowley is soft. Aziraphale is such a mom. Zophiel is t r o u b l e. I love them so much. Also, I have a tumblr (same u/n: scaredofthedarkuniverse) where I have other short writings (more to come). Send me a prompt or an ask!

The sun-dappled cottage in South Downs was precisely what the doctor had ordered, Crowley thought. That was, of course, if he were ever in the habit of seeing a doctor… or following advice… or doing anything that might possibly _benefit_ him. Then again, he had chosen to live out the rest of eternity with his hoarding, tartan-wearing, ever-present principality, but that was a one-off. The point was, deciding to get a cottage in the country had been a good decision. 

Not only did Aziraphale and he decide that they needed to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city, but the fact that they had somehow adopted two other supernatural beings who weren't quite great at the _blending in_ lark made it necessary to seek a new dwelling with relative solitude where his adorable, chubby-cheeked little Cherub could sit on the grass, all four faces to the sun. Which was, coincidentally, exactly what she was doing as Crowley stepped out to the enclosed back garden to threaten some caterpillars. 

" _Jesus Christ_ was a swell guy," he stuttered out, clutching at his chest and doubling over. "We've got a schedule for a reason, Cherub. You with the faces and 'Ziraphale with the glowing rings, I swear you're going to discorporate me."

"But Bobby was getting stuffy," Zophiel defended, pouting. 

"Bobby?" He rolled his eyes as the cherub pointed over her right shoulder at the ox face who, indeed, looked stuffy, but he wasn't about to admit that to her. "Where's the no-gooder?"

" _Nix is lurking, he's lurking real good. Nix is lurking up and down the neighbourhood_." The angel sang before tilting her head curiously at the lighter and can of hairspray the demon was carrying outside. "What's that for?"

Crowley looked down at his hands, as if suddenly noticing he had brought out all this caterpillar-killing paraphernalia. He quickly stashed his hands behind his back– there was no need to upset the Cherub at this hour of the morning. "Never you mind. Run along inside, now."

The pout on her face was short-lived, turning into a beaming smile in the blink of an eye as extra faces and wings were tucked into the other dimension, compliant with the _no lions in the cottage_ rule. Stretching her back, Zophiel abandoned her spot on the grass, skirting past Crowley into the cottage. She was nearly past the threshold when a diminutive _mew_ caught the demon's attention. Crowley's eyebrows shut up towards his hairline as he slammed an arm across the door's threshold, effectively blocking her path. 

"What wassss that?" He ripped his sunglasses off, wanting to stare down at the cherub who stood waffling in the doorway. "Let me remind you of what constitutes a sin before you answer, Miss Zophiel Crowley Fell: omission, misdirection, falsification…" Zophiel snapped her mouth shut, brilliant emerald eyes falling to the ground. 

Out of a hidden pocket of her overalls, she pulled out a small, black and white tuxedo kitten who immediately began purring and looking to burrow its impressively fluffy face into her chest. "I found him by the turnips and he was wet and cold and shivering and looked like he hadn't eaten in days, but I remembered –I remembered– you said, _no pets, Zoph, that's what you have Nix for_ , but Nix isn't a pet and the kitty was still cold and–"

"We are _not_ keeping it, Zoph," he warned in a low, threatening tone that would have had any other creature in creation scurrying away, terrified for its life. The cherub, it seemed, had not gotten the memo.

"But, _AJ_ ," she whined, her bottom lip quivering dangerously. 

Now, it this were early days, he would have assumed that the cherub was just a very emotional little thing and it broke her heart to see a critter cold and hungry and left to its fate. However, this particular cherub had been living with two demons for longer than most angels had even _interacted_ with the opposition, and while she still was adverse to sinning (Lord knows he was trying his hardest to get her to do it willingly, as a point of pride, if nothing else) she was not above using those glistening green eyes to manipulate his will. Sadly, he could not take credit for that move – no, she had learned that one from the Angel. 

Annoyingly, the rounded features clawed at what the demon supposed was his heart, reminding him that he did, indeed, have feelings. He growled, angry to think he had absolutely no ability to deny her. "He's on probation for a _week_. If he misbehaves, he's gone!"

Zophiel squealed, giving Crowley a hug and effectively sandwiching the kitten between the two, who seemed not to be bothered by the situation. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She turned into the cottage. "Zira, he said _yes_!"

Crowley balked, lip turning up in a snarl. " _'Ziraphale!_ "

The principality appeared at the doorway with a knowing smile a moment later. "Yes, my dear?"

There was some tongue flicking and a hiss, but Crowley could not decide if he was upset or proud of their deception. "You know what? I'm not even going to ask you, you self-satisfied bastard." He turned on his heel and skulked towards the rosebushes, swaggering exaggeratedly in his all-black, too-hot get up. He stopped half-way there, looking over his shoulder, frankly, affronted. "Shame on you for teaching her to lie to her fa– riend… _her demon friend_!" Sure, Crowley had taught her the pleasures of gluing pound coins to the sidewalk and watching people try to collect them, but he had never encouraged untruthfulness in the innocent choir angel.

Aziraphale smiled fondly at the demon, the sunshine over the garden making the principality look like he was glowing from the inside out. "Oh, my dear boy–"

Crowley's ears were burning deep red under the scrutiny. "Oh, _shut up_!" At this point, he was shaking the can of hairspray and flicking the lighter on while he stared down at a fuzzy little caterpillar. 

And, so, the kitten had stayed. Crowley did not have a problem with kittens, per se. He thought them perfectly adequate creatures, sufficiently intelligent to be mostly autonomous and, therefore, did not to be fussed over, as much. Even the fact that they were mostly nonplussed and uninterested in the humans that cared for them and did not understand the concept that _they_ were the pets made Crowley think that these particularly furry critters were of Hell's invention. The problem lied, however, in the fact that this particular kitten was not one of those cocky, aloof critters that stared at the world from its perch atop the bookshelves, but rather, was an extremely affectionate, want-to-spend-the-day-on-your-lap type of cat. While the cat adored Zophiel (and, honestly, who didn't– she was basically a beam of sunshine, personified) and got along with Aziraphale and Nix, the black and white bother had a penchant for seeking Crowley out and forcing affection onto him. 

On this particular occasion, Crowley lay, tightly curled, as a great, giant snake, warming his body on a stray sunbeam that splashed across the floor in the library. He had been asleep for a few hours, lounging and enjoy the sensation of baking in the sun. Augustus, or Gus, as Zophiel called him when she was cooing over his fluffy form, had trotted over to where the man-sized reptile rested, paying no mind to the dangers as he attempted to cuddle inside its centermost coil. Demon had awoken almost instantly, hissing demonically at the cat who dared interrupt his hellish slumber. Gus, however, had turned onto his back, showing the serpent its particularly well-fed belly and blinked innocently at Crowley, as if knowing that this beast and the ornery man who lurked in the house were one and the same. Bared fangs, dripping the most potent of venoms had only resulted in the kitten purring and rubbing a spot near his head before he fell to his side and distractedly kneaded his little paws onto the snake's taut muscles. 

"Oh, no, no, no. Gus, leave Master Crowley alone!" Crowley lifted his great, glistening head towards the door where Nix stood in his quest to find the kitten. "I'm so sorry. Zoph is asleep and he slipped out." Unlike Crowley, Nix was a much more tightly-wound demon. In many regards, the boy reminded him of Aziraphale: always playing by the rules, always doing what he was told, more interested in reading books than dealing with others; in short, a little boring, but well-intentioned. 

With one last beat in the light to let the warmth permeate his cool skin, Crowley transformed back, quickly cutting off the kitten's intended path up his waistcoat. "Tell Zoph that I didn't sign up to be a cat minder, alright?"

Nix nodded frantically, bending to pluck the kitten from the ground while it swiped its black and white paws towards Crowley. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir." He fidgeted with the kitten and offered a strained smile. Beneath the sentiment, the anxiety of a million souls bubbled. "Like I said, he slipped away, I don't know how, and–"

"Oh, hey. It's– it's fine, Nix. It happens." Crowley narrowed his gaze at the flurried demon, noting there was something in his demeanor that was calling out to him rather uncomfortably. "Remind me again, Nix. What did you do to get sent to the basement, again?"

The dark-skinned boy dropped his eyes to the floor, instantly, giving a half-hearted shrug. "I didn't so much Fall as got pushed, sir." His eyes flickered up to Crowley briefly. "Dagon was collecting soldiers before they were to make their exit. I just… got unlucky, I guess."

"If it wasn't anything you did, why weren't you able to come back?"

The kitten had tired of lying idly in the demon's arms and was scaling its way up Nix's Velvet Underground t-shirt. "I don't know, sir. I tried, but, I couldn't find my way back up, anymore. I was just as bad as Lucifer and the others, then, it seemed." 

Crowley's lips twitched as the feline went from the boy's shoulder and was negotiating a route up to his head. He didn't offer any help with the matter. "Rotten sense of humor, She has, hasn't She? Can't go back home, can't stand where you are. The people down below don't take kindly to those who didn't mean to Fall."

"No, they don't." 

Nix's gaze twitched back to the floor, a reflexive wince marring the usually passive mask he wore; a mask he only broke in case of a rousing book discussion or when staring at the Cherub he was so infatuated with. Crowley knew of those involuntary responses. For a long time, somewhere between the Fall and his mission up to Earth, he would start whenever he heard a loud noise (which in Hell was always) or felt someone too close (which in Hell was also always). 

"You're safe here. You know that, right? Neither Aziraphale nor I will ever do anything–"

There was an immediate correction to facial expressions and some very raw emotional trauma buried back into the depths of his skull. "I know, Master Crowley. You and Master Aziraphale have been nothing but kind to me, despite… you know." The kitten had, by now, planted himself atop the demon's head, all four legs spilling off the sides and was purring so loudly it made his head vibrate dizzily. 

"Despite the ham-fisted attempts to seduce an innocent Cherub, or…?"

Nix sputtered. "I… no… she… I-I… Crowl," the lesser demon tried to clumsily defend, and was getting about as far as a bicycle with cinder blocks for wheels. 

"It was _a joke_ ," Crowley replied, lips twitching, his accent sounding ever so slightly more Scottish than underworld-ly wily snake. "Besides, I'm not entirely convinced it wasn't the Cherub who seduced you or if you're just irritatingly suited for each other."

"She's so pretty," Nix breathed, a goofy grin invading his semblance. 

"OK. _Get out_ ," Crowley gruffed, feigning a dry heave and pointing out the same direction he had come in. He grumbled to himself, plopping onto a nearby armchair and sprawling bonelessly. "I used to be fearsome. I used to foment discord and evil-doing."

"You were never fearsome, my dear boy," Aziraphale cooed, standing at the doorway with his hands clasped tightly in front of him. "A little annoying, perhaps…"

"Don't start with me, Angel."

The principality wasted no time in closing the distance between them, waddling briskly across the softly padded floor until he was just beside the demon. "Don't pout, dearest, it's unbecoming." He tapped his slightly glowing index finger on the demon's nose and grinned. "Come, I'm taking the children for gelato."

"Not children, Angel," Crowley sighed chewing at the inside of his lip in thought. "Angel, we should mind the rabble rouser, he's–"

"I know, Crowley. We've talked about it at length when he first arrived," Aziraphale interrupted, his smile dimming just slightly. "Zophiel does most of the heavy lifting in terms of managing his anxiety, I'm afraid."

"Why am I not surprised?" Crowley asks, rhetorically. "Right. Gelato." The Serpent of Eden shot himself out of his chair, circling the angel out of habit, stopping his swaggering pace only to press a kiss to Aziraphale's mouth. "Nix, Zoph, let's get moving! We're wasting daylight," he called, ignoring the wiggle of excitement from the principality. _Dear God, he was truly soft._

The Cherub's voice appeared behind him at once. "Yeah, Crow-Crow?"

Crowley turned on his heel, quickly, only to start and jump about three feet back, not prepared for the ox face staring up at him with wide eyes. It _still_ looked stuffy. "Jesus, Zoph, we've talked about this! Put Bobby and all the rest of you away; you're going to burn the retinas off some poor, unsuspecting human." The ox snorted and Nix, a few paces behind, stifled a laugh. 

"But Bobby–"

"Is stuffy, _I know_ ," he growled. "Jeez, you were easier to deal with when you didn't know how to argue!"

" _So's your face!_ " She sing-songed back. 

Crowley rolled his eyes. "That doesn't make sen–"

"So's your face!"

Demon and Cherub stared at each other for a minute, the other two occupants in the room holding a silent argument regarding which of the two was more ridiculous. Crowley neared her until barely a centimeter existed between the two, and he bent slightly at the knees to level his ochre eyes on her unnaturally green ones. "You, young lady... have earned yourself an extra scoop of ice cream for that sass. Good job."

"Crowley, _no_ ," Aziraphale and Nix muttered, in unison, but serpent and cherub had already walked out the door, hand in hand.


	4. Metamorphosis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm weak. I love fluff. These are my babies.
> 
> EDIT: Idea is in part thanks to no2ambientnorms!

"Crowley, dear, do you think it would be possible for you two to move from this position sometime this century?"

Aziraphale had asked this question in a perfectly pleasant tone, hands clasped loosely over his stomach as he watched the pair on the ground with a fond smile. The great, man-eating snake of Eden, who hissed viciously at his beloved Angel, did not hold the same fondness. Amidst the dark red and black ripples of muscle, the pale, sleeping form of Zophiel rested, looking a little worse for wear. 

Although the Cherub had been more than happy to ramble through world of men, marveling at their inventions and singing their songs, the recent visit from Gabriel and Beelzebub had worn on her corporeal form. As such, it had left her in a premature bout of molting that had run her aground – it seemed having extra wings and extra faces made the process all the more grueling. Crowley, the anxious, concerned father (though he would happily kill anyone who mentioned it) he was had tutted, helicoptered, fussed, and worried himself into an early shed of his snake skin. And so they had fallen into a pitiful pile in the middle of the sunroom to deal with their dual shedding. 

There was a half-hearted attempt at a strike that resembled more of a twitch on account of Crowley not wanting to move too much and wake Zophiel up. "Really, there is no need for that sort of attitude, my darling." Aziraphale rolled his eyes, sighing. His delicate, plump fingers ran a trail up the bit of rough scale on the top of the serpent's head, smiling at how the reptile brushed its nose into the Angel's palm before settling back to snooze. "I've left you nibbles and some water. I'll try again a little later."

The Principality took to the kitchen table with a pristine first edition of Much Ado About Nothing, his blue gaze flitting every so often to the doorway of the sunroom. One of the clockwork repetitions, he saw the demon Nix lurking in the shadows, against the wall, almost slithering towards his goal.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, dear," Aziraphale said, barely looking away from his text. "I wouldn't put a friendly, inconvenient discorporation past Crowley."

Nix stopped, mid-step, rolling backwards away from the doorway. His usually serene face was now marred with a pout. "It's been two weeks!"

"Molting is rough for Cherubs and… well, I've never _actually_ seen Crowley shed his snakeskin, so I'm afraid I don't know if it's normal or not." He sipped from a cup of cocoa beside him. "He's just as ornery as ever, so I think he's fine."

"Shakespeare?" Nix asked, tilting his head to look at the book cover. "A little whiny, a little… _plagiarizy_ ," he added, fluttering his fingers.

"Yes, I am afraid he wasn't the best behaved wordsmith," Aziraphale admitted. "Then again, most writers are weak to the wiles of the devil."

The demon ruminated for a moment before a grin hung onto the left side of his mouth. "Say, Master Aziraphale, you wouldn't be the same Ezra Fell that Mister Wilde speaks about, would you?"

The Principality choked on a gulp of hot chocolate, miracle-ing a serviette to dab at his mouth delicately. "What? Me? Oscar Wilde?" He tried to school his expression into that of someone taken aback, and failing miserably. He had a story or two about the infamous Mister Wilde. 

"He said the most racy things while I was down there," Nix teased, enjoying the colored cheeks of the Angel and the anxious fidgeting of his hands. "Master Crowley would happily volunteer to go back to Hell just to torture him if he knew."

"I think it's best not mention it to Crowley, actually. I don't think he was fond of my acquaintance with Oscar." He fussed with placing his cocoa on the table _just so_. "Not that there was anything untoward between us, but it wasn't for lack of trying on his part."

Nix propped his head on his elbow, his whole semblance settling as if he was being told a particularly good fairytale. "Master Crowley used to flirt with Tennessee Williams, so I think you both come out a draw."

Aziraphale looked mildly surprised. "Did he now?" There was a curious sparkle in Aziraphale's eyes and he looked like he wanted to say something. "Who else is down there? That are worth their salt in books, I mean."

"Literally _all_ the good ones are down there, Master Aziraphale."

"I don't think that's true, at all." He had miracle-d another mug of cocoa and pushed it towards the demon with a small smile. Nix wrapped his hands around the blue tartan-patterned porcelain and settled into his seat. "We got Walt Whitman, after all."

"On a technicality," Nix argued, before sipping lightly from his cup. The demon seemed to pause, staring reflexively at the surface of his drink as if it contained the secrets to existence.

Aziraphale, on his end, worried that the drink was not up to snuff and mentally revised his recipe for miracle cocoa. "Is everything quite alright, dear boy?"

Reveries were snapped and attentions were brought back to the present as the demon concentrated on being back at the kitchen table with the Principality of the Eastern Gate. "Yes, all fine. I just haven't been warm in a while."

The Angel wanted to argue, saying that he was from Hell and, of course, he had been warm. The whole realm was forged and powered by Hellfire, after all. However, he recognized the faraway look in the other's eyes as the same expression Crowley took whenever he contemplated meeting with the bosses. It was the look of discomfort and mild panic at the probability of persecution and certain doom, otherwise known was _whoops, I fell in love with someone from the other team and don't want to be found out, and, also, you all suck_. 

Crowley's words, not his, of course. 

Nix's eyes had glazed over slightly and a small crease appeared between his eyebrows. Aziraphale tutted to himself. This melancholy would simply not do. A tin manifested out of thin air and the Angel wasted no time in cracking the lid open and shoving it across the table. 

"Have a biscuit, love. I'm going to fetch some Tennyson first editions that are in need of some mending. You mind helping me with them?" He had left the table without waiting for an answer, secretly pleased at the glowing little smile brewing on the demon's face at the thought of being allowed to handle such precious tomes. Aziraphale knew, after all, that these soft demons of his just generally wanted to feel needed. 

Neither timeless, immortal creature took much notice of time marching on. Sunsets and sunrises slithered past them in a soft rustle before either of them had cause to move. When they did, it was to look up at a ruffled, rough-looking Zophiel, still tugging handfuls of shedding feathers from her wings marching towards them with a pout. 

"No offense, Zoph," Nix began just as the Cherub clambered into his lap, regardless of the fact he had been working on something at the table, "but these are in dire need of a good preen." He wrinkled his nose at the feathers sitting at disheveled, cross angles and made an effort to smooth them down.

The Cherub groaned. "Preen? I _just_ made them. This is as good as they're getting for the next hundred years," she whined, burying her face into his chest promptly after to signify the end of that particular conversation. 

Soon after, a beautiful, shiny-scaled, glistening snake slithered out of the sunroom, making no effort to transform back into its human form before wrapping itself around the Principality's distracted form. Their interaction was more nuanced. The serpent rested its large head on the Angel's shoulder and nudged into the crook of his neck while Aziraphale continued his work. Every so often, after he turned a page, he would lift a hand to run it over the snake's head. 

"I'll give you a hand with it. Really, they're in quite a state." Nix smiled down at Zophiel who offered a blindingly bright grin, in return, her whole countenance glowing after her ethereal molt. Nix could only sigh lovingly in wonder. 

"I'm going to be ssssssick," Crowley hissed into Aziraphale's ear, causing the other to chuckle and tear his eyes away from the book long enough to stare at the snake. 

"Oh, you look lovely, dear. That shed did you a world of good." Aziraphale gushed, running his palm under Crowley's ruby chin, watching amusedly as the pupils blew out wide in delight. 

"Thankssss, Angel." There was another attempt to nuzzle into the Angel's neck. "Now what wassss that I heard about that prick, Wilde?"


End file.
